


The Closer I Get, The Further I Have To Go

by carrythezero



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, don't want to have too many tags, i don't want to give it away, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrythezero/pseuds/carrythezero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a continuation of my first Zarry drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Closer I Get, The Further I Have To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my first Zarry drabble. I'm thinking of possibly making these into a series. Let me know if I should!
> 
> Also, this work hasn't been beta'd, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> tumblr: dimplesfromcheshire

  
_but listen carefully to the sound_  
 _of your loneliness_  
 _like a heartbeat, drives you mad_  
 _in the stillness of remembering what you had_  
 _\- dreams, fleetwood mac_

  
  
  
  
It's been three weeks since Harry has heard from Zayn. Three weeks ago had been when Harry told Zayn to go fuck himself. He wasn't going to allow himself to be anyone's secret anymore. Harry was invariably good enough for a fuck, but never a relationship. That's how it had always been, and not just with Zayn Malik. He thought it would get better with him if he just kept his patience up, waited it out. But if anything, it made things worse for himself. Zayn got to have it all: the career of his dreams, his fiancee, and his secret lover. But Harry was always left on the stove to burn; he picked her first, always. _Always_.  
  
Harry was glad they were currently on a break before their tour. He needed the emotional and physical rest, but he also needed to keep away from Zayn, which has turned out to be nearly impossible. It's always when you try to forget that you're forced to remember, it seemed. Harry sees him in everything: the books he reads, the songs he listens to, the art on his walls. Sometimes he swears he can still feel him at night, when he's all alone... Feel his fingers ghost up his ribcage, his lips at his ear, feel his feet tangled with his own. It's enough to drive Harry absolutely mad, but it's also enough to make his chest tear apart with longing. Everyday he asks himself why he wants someone who isn't there for him, someone who never puts him first. Harry just wants to be, well, wanted. He wants to be what Zayn wakes up to every morning, who Zayn is with the rest of his life. But it will forever be out of the question: Zayn wants her. He's going to marry her. Not him.  
  
Harry gets out of bed and throws some pants on before padding downstairs to his kitchen to make some tea. As he waits for the water to boil, he turns his TV on for something to play in the background. And it's just his fucking luck... Zayn's face is on the screen, an entertainment news reporter excitedly rambling about the recent hairstyle Zayn sported to one of the many award shows they turned up to this year. Harry's cursed under his breath and turned it off quickly, chucking the remote at the couch. The kettle began to screech, pulling Harry from his thoughts momentarily. He didn't notice the tears until he saw one land on the counter top as he poured water into his mug. Harry put the kettle back on one of the unheated vacant burners, albeit a little forcefully, and pressed his palms into his eye sockets, trying to make the tears stop rolling. It was useless, of course; his heart felt destroyed, and with eyes closed, all he could see was his world and how it was out of reach. Harry couldn't tell you what meals he's eaten this week, but he could tell you exactly the color Zayn's eyes turn in the springtime, and the things he said to him the last time they faced each other, when Harry called it off.  
  
 _"Don't do this, Haz," Zayn pleaded, his voice cracking on his name. "Please."_  
  
Harry couldn't stop living in those words. He couldn't make them stop pulsing in his brain, in his heart. He let his pain overtake him and he crumpled to the floor, his weight being supported by his cupboards behind him. The only sounds to be heard were Harry's broken sobs as he broke apart on his kitchen floor, with nothing but the walls around him to keep him company.  
  
~~~  
  
Harry had been trying to sleep, but at 1:27 AM he woke to the sound of banging on his door. He didn't have a clue who it could be; very few people knew the pass code to the gate of his L.A. home.  
  
"Jesus Christ, it's after one in the bloody morning," He snapped, but anything else he thought about saying got caught in his throat at the sight of the person on his doorstep. Of course it was him. Of fucking course it was.  
  
Harry began to tell him to piss off and get off of his property, edging the door closed as he did so, but before he could finish doing either, Zayn's arm swung out, preventing him from doing both.  
  
"Harry, wait!" Zayn gasped. It was hard to ignore the utter desperation that clung to his words. "I just need to see you. Please."  
  
Harry stared at him for a moment, the all too familiar feeling of pain rushing through his chest. He didn't have the strength to deal with this right now. He was worried he never would be able to. "You've seen me. Now fucking leave."  
  
Zayn's hand pushed harder on the door, prying it open a few more inches, causing Harry to stumble a bit in the process. "Don't do this again. _Listen to me_!" He choked out, the tips of his fingers turning white from how hard he gripped the door. "Haz, _please_. Let me in. Just for a few minutes."  
  
Even though Harry's eyes were on the floor of his entryway, he knew Zayn's features were molded into a combination of frustration and distress. "And why the hell should I do that, Zayn?"  
  
"I can't stop thinking about you. You're everywhere, in every goddamned thing. I'm going fucking mad with it." As he spoke, he inched his way inside past the door frame. Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in and let his arm drop from the door. He felt tired, but more so than fatigue, he felt defeated. He turned away from Zayn and and walked heavily to his living room. He wished he could have shut the door. But he never can. Not for long any way; Zayn seemed to always weasel his way back in to Harry's heart. He heard Zayn shut the door quietly and follow after him, the sound of the soles of his boots on the marble floor bouncing off of the walls around them.  
  
He was sat on the couch bent over, head in his hands, when Zayn joined him. "This isn't fair." Harry mumbled, letting his hands drop as he looked up to shoot Zayn a glare. "You can't just keep showing up and shoving your way back in. It's not fucking fair."  
  
Zayn ran a ring covered hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "I tried to ringing you. You never pick up the fucking phone." His hand fell from his head and he took a few steps towards the tired boy sitting in front of him. "What else was I supposed to do?"  
  
"I don't know, Zayn, leave me the hell alone for once? We're on our break right now. I want some time to myself for once." He shot back as he stood up and pushed past Zayn to go to his kitchen to put the kettle on. It wasn't long before he heard Zayn's boots trailing behind him.  
  
"You're always walking away, Haz."  
  
Harry let the mug in his hand fall to the counter with a loud clatter before swinging his body to face him. " _I'm_ always walking away? You leave me all the bloody time for her, Zayn! _Always_!" He shouted, the muscles in his body tensed. "I can't keep doing it anymore. I love you, but I can't."  
  
It looked to Harry that Zayn might've stopped breathing. He had never told Zayn those three words before. He knew they both felt it, but it was always an unspoken feeling. "You can't make me choose, Harry, not this way... I love her, too."  
  
Zayn crossed the kitchen until he was right in front of Harry and lifted his fingers to lightly touch Harry's cheekbone. "You don't love her. You think you do, but you're wrong."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment to let me know how you liked it, as I'm not sure how I feel about this quite yet! Thanks again!
> 
> Come say hello as well! tumblr: dimplesfromcheshire


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